Number 13
by Jusangou
Summary: A redemption for the William Brikin. The most powerful being created by his viruses, the cure.
1. The start

I woke up this morning, for the first time. It was almost as if I was brain dead and with the flick of a switch I wasn't.   
I found myself on a doctor's operation table, needles and pills spilled around the ground. After an hour or two I found the   
strength to lift myself from the table, and moved towards the nearest thing that would given me any kind of reflection, the   
screen of a dead montior. My face seemed familiar but I couldn't put a name too it. My face was moist as if I had just bathed   
or had just cried myself to sleep like some builled child.  
  
My head span, flipped or whatever you would like to call, the most painful headache imagitionable. And I moved away from the  
monitor, I had, had enough of that for the moment. I turned to collect what little clothes lay around the small dark room,   
but a sharp crash changed my plans. I moved to the origins of it but I found the strong wooden door, nailed shut, blocking  
my way.   
  
The noise accorded again, this time I shouted out calling perhaps to see if the noise was human or cause by one.   
  
I waited but got no reply. So I felt it time to free myself from the womb. I quickly began to kick hard into the door, at  
the latch mostly. After around half a dozen kicks, the door fell open and I catiously walked outwards, by this time I felt  
it a good idea to put the clothes I had found on, they fitted perfectly, a present from my former self.   
  
A lump to the side of the jacket aroused me when it smashed into my chest, I pulled open the pocket and found a large   
dark black handgun, the light from one of the Cling lamps that was stuck to the wall above me, shone onto it. A small smile   
appeared on the side of my face, for some unknown reason, it felt as if I had found an old friend in hell. I turned it over   
and I found one of the sides read, "Desert Eagle mock 4". I checked my other pockets and found a small box of rounds for the   
gun, they had some cheesey logo on them, "Kendo, Raccon city".  
  
It was only a guess at the time, but I figured that I must be there, "Raccon city", as the box of ammo rounds, looked almost  
brand new. I found little else in my other pockets, in the one on the left side of my trousers I found, small change, an old   
can ring pull and a condom. In the other, the torn corner of a poetry book, it read;  
  
"Did I request, Maker, from my clay  
To mould me man ? Did I solicit thee  
From darkness to promote me ?"  
  
John Milton, Paradise Lost (1667),  
  
On the other side, I found two words that intrested me, drawn out by a shakey hand, and a pencil, that was most likely blunt,  
  
"Escape" and "Surive", the words haunted my mind as I took them in,  
  
However I had gotten this, I decided to take it on board, my moto for the time being.............   
  



	2. Waking up

A room in the distance flickered, with some kind of unatural light blue. As I drew closer, the faint sound of voices became  
appearant. I began to move faster, as it became clear this was a television, perhaps I could find some answers. But as I did  
the scent of death filled me, rancid, choking. The door was only slighty open but was enough for he to open it with ease. As  
I did I put the collar of my jacket sleves to my nose and attempted to hold, my breath.  
  
The door opened slowly, swinging round and creaking. I didn't really know what to expect, perhaps a dead pet or perhaps a   
bird, had flown in through an open window, then found it impossible to escape. But as I entered, the fear of God entered me,   
there sloughted over a large metal chair was a big man, in his early fifties, dead. Not only dead but decaying, from the   
site of it must have been over 4 months, skin had begun to rot from his face, old crushy blood dripped from one of his   
fingers that lay close to the ground, his eyelids open, the pupils non existant. He wore a clothes similar to the ones a   
security guard does, with a small name tag over the left side of his chest. "Warden, Eugine harah".  
  
I grabbed a near by metal pole, and with the intent of proding him with it, but it slipped through my fingers and fell to   
the ground. I drew back as I saw blood slime down my fingers and drip onto my jacket. It looked like already I had stumbled  
onto a murder, apart from the fact the blood was fresh on the pole and around the corspe of the old man. I didn't understand,  
the question flooded my head, already filled with questions, "What had happened here ?".   
  
An uneasiness filled me, death didn't seem to be something I enjoyed, dispute the gun I held in my jacket pocket. As I sat on  
the bed facing the man, I stared at his blank eyes, and he stared back. I glanced downwards, the corspe held a postcard  
in one of his limp hands. It took a few seconds of pulling but I finally managed it to pry it from his cold hand.  
  
On the front was a picture of what seemed to be a very gothic building, A big highlighted sign proclaimed that it was  
the "Raccon City, Libary". I flipped the card over,  
  
"Dear Eugine,  
  
As many of us have suspected for a number of years the Umbrella mansion, is more than meets the eye. Too many people have   
gone missing passing through it, to many multilated corspes have been thrown out of it. We cannot fight this war, like we   
have before. All we precious few can do is simply run from it. It is a cowards choice, yes. But it is that or death. Why may   
you ask, that this has come all of a sudden ? S.T.A.R.S, the towns protectors, countless times they have saved this fair   
city. After they recently, investigated said Mansion, they found something much worst than anyone could have suspected.  
  
I have a simple plea, of you, my oldest friend, listen to my reason, meet me in the Towns largest libary, the one to the   
side of 38th street.  
  
Yours hopefully,   
  
Jack biant  
  
P.S. God save our souls".  
  
"Umbrella", the word ghosted in my mind, as if trying to release something of my past. The stink of the knife jabbing into  
my head crushed me and I let out a crippling scream and I glutched my head tearing at my hair like an wild animal, I fell  
back on the bed and I twisted and pulled myself downwards like a snake. I didn't like this feeling so familiar the first  
familiar thing I had ever felt, Pangs of pain everywere, everypart of my body. I blindly crushed anything that got into my  
way, until there was calm in my head again. I stopped the rambling of voices in my mind, until it was one picture one simple  
image, the same man I had seen in the mirror not an hour ago, he looked at me, his eyes a deep scarlet, tears ran down his  
face,   
  
"TX-20013" over and over again he said, his hand lay now on my shoulder, before lunging forward at me,  
  
I felt a clammy unatural hand grap hold of my shirt and knock me from where I sat to the ground. Without a second thought,  
I reacted quickly reaching for my gun inside my jacket pocket.  
  
The grip on my gun loosened, as my eyes laid themself on my attacker, the warden......... the dead warden.  
  
A blank look crossed his eyes and he stumbled with a limp towards, me. The bleeding, rancid body lunged at me again. But   
instead recieved a swift boot to it's large stomach. It fell back through a different door than I had come through earlier   
and crashed into what seemed to be a balcony edge. In one movement I grapped hold of my gun and fired to bullet straight   
forward creating two large holes inside the former wardens skull and also providing enough push to knock him over the   
side.  
  
After a few seconds of waiting, I heard a large crunch as his body smashed into the cold hard ground, then came the echoes.  
I stood up a followed the path of my vitcim and looked downwards.  
  
  
  



End file.
